The man's eyes illuminated briefly, "I'll trust your knowledge of the event, don't worry too much Mister Evanston."

Mario watched the man continue to write and asked, "Why are you writing so much? I'm hardly sayin' a thing, yet you're writing a lot."

Miyaza nodded, "I'm just writing mental notes, formulating hypothesizes and such."

"Okay, well why are you asking me these kind of questions?"

The agent looked up and asked what he meant.

"You're questions are...basic. These guys could have asked me these by now, they did in fact, but why are you just rattling off the same things? Shouldn't the FBI be askin' me tougher questions?"

The Asian man nodded. He flipped the top of the notepad over his notes, stowed it and the pen away in his coat, and replied, "I could ask you the questions I really need answers to...like how Cladis was able to stand by the side of the road and push Angela Walsh's car into yours, how not a single soul could see him, and why there are suddenly a vast number of 'super powered' individuals throughout this city." He glanced at the chief and two detectives and calmly added, "You need to stop looking at this case like it's just another routine investigation. For starters, you have a serial killer, something none of you have experience with, but more importantly, this isn't a traditional ma.s.s murderer. As such, this case is something new to all of you and to most, if not all detectives in your shoes." The agent turned his attention to Detective Sage and continued, "You're missing clues because you're not thinking abstractly enough. Nothing is quite what you think. This isn't a simple investigation, your target is not a rational or typical serial killer...and I am not a federal agent."

All of the men froze where they were. Sage felt his heart race faster than it ever had. All three of the officers reached for their weapons but the Asian man was far too fast for them. He rushed toward Felton, struck him in the throat with the flat of his hand which preceded three decisive blows to his head and a swift knee into his gut. Felton fell to the floor though Miyaza already dealt with the chief of police before Felton hit the ground. Miyaza used the table to boost himself into the air where he kicked Chief Johnson square in the forehead and brought him down. Sage hardly moved for his gun before the man seized his hand, broke his grip, took the gun, and slammed the side of the weapon into the side of his head. It didn't leave him unconscious, but his head rang as the man removed the safety and aimed it at him. Before Evanston could make a sound, a second gun from Agent Miyaza's coat came into Sage's blurred vision and marked Evanston.

Miyaza smiled, "Now, I've got the answers I needed so I can get out of here before anyone realizes what I" he looked at Evanston and his eyes flashed, "Don't even think about it!" he barked. "You might be able to turn metals into liquids, but you are not fast enough to stop bullets...and if you were I'd just snap your neck with my hands, so save me the trouble and sit quietly." Miyaza returned his attention to the wounded detective and muttered, "I'd take a closer look at those security tapes if I were you...and look at the rain, very closely." He took Sage's gun, removed the clip, took the weapon apart, and dropped the pieces on the floor. "And don't bother trying to find me," he told him while he walked to the door and moved Felton out of the way, "You won't."

Ryuzaki Miyaza stowed his weapon away, opened the door, and let the heavy metal door slam shut behind him after he escaped.

11:13 PM.

London, England Jason lay wide awake in bed with Audrey, who slept soundly beside him. I can't sleep at all...I never can though and it makes me wonder why I even bother anymore. Their room was only lit by what little light crept in between and around the drapes at their window. When Jason could sleep he needed it dark, just as Audrey did, so they didn't keep a television in their bedroom either, not that Jason wanted to pa.s.s the night with infomercials and syndicated television. In actuality Jason was quite limited to what he could do to pa.s.s the hours.

I could get up and find Audrey's digital reader and download a book. I have wanted to read The Iliad and The Odyssey again. And who knows? Maybe the culture and written form will make more sense given my studies...Not to mention it will give me a chance to see how rusty my Greek is...Yet, we do need more eggs and bread for the morning. I could just run and get it and return to bed and start on Homer's epics then. He stared at the ceiling and let out a sigh. I need to get out of here soon anyway or I'm going to lose it.

Jason quietly rose from bed and found his clothes without rousing Audrey. He did run across some trouble locating his shoes though, and just as he believed he'd found them Audrey turned over and sleepily told him the pair he'd selected were hers.

"Yours are near the door," she mumbled.

He thanked her and told her to go back to bed.

"You're heading out then?"

"Yes."

She frowned and told him she wished he would stay. "You know how I hate that. You tell me how dangerous this city is and I worry about whether or not you'll be here when I get up in the morning."

Again? "Audrey, I always return and I'm always unscathed."

She pulled the covers up close to her and glanced away from him. I'm not going anywhere except the d.a.m.n store and we need milk and eggs and bread for breakfast. I'm only going to be out for a moment anyway.

They both retained their silence while Jason put his shoes on. "I'll only be out for a quick minute."

"Where are you going?"

"The store a few blocks from here."

"Why?"

"To get some things we need for breakfast."

Audrey studied him and asked why it couldn't wait until the morning.

It's for breakfast Audrey. I need it in the morning and I'd rather not have to race over to the b.l.o.o.d.y store and back all for a hot meal I can guarantee tonight.

"I'm already up honey; just go back to sleep."

She sat up and watched him put his shoes on and waited until the laces were tied before she whispered, "You always leave in the middle of the night Jason and I hate it."

"I'll only be gone"

"I don't like it Jason," she told him flatly. "Why can't you stay here with me and"

"I can't stand lying awake for hours on end each and every night Audrey," he cut in. "Do you know how long each night is? I mean without any rest or sleep at all? There's nothing to make the minutes, the hours pa.s.s by any faster, and all the while you know how d.a.m.n tired you'll be the next day? It's horrible Audrey. I need to get out and occupy myself somewhat." He paused a moment to find her through the darkness and added, "It isn't enough to just read a book or watch films for seven or eight hours each night. You get restless real quick. Do you understand?"

She nodded silently and allowed him to gather some money from his wallet on their dresser near the door.

"I hate sleeping alone Jason," she confessed. "I take comfort knowing you're beside me whenever I turn over at night." Audrey looked him in the eye and asked him to stay.

He kept quiet for a moment before he told her he would be back in a moment and promised to stay beside her from then on. I need to stretch my legs and get some air. And I'll be back before you know it Audrey.

Jason wasn't alone. London, like many other metropolises throughout the world, always had someone awake at every minute of the day. It's not too late, so I'd guess these people are all out for parties or what have you. It's difficult to imagine that Audrey and I once lived that life too. I can't even recall the last time I stepped foot in a nightclub, though I would a.s.sume I'm too old for all of that now. Call it adulthood or growing old too quickly, but I doubt I could enjoy it now anyway.

The night was clear, though there weren't any stars to show for it. Out of all the things he hated about the city, the lack of starlight topped his list. He never planned on living there for his whole life, but school dictated where they lived and then work followed. Audrey loved London though, and as such Jason held a suspicion that he'd never leave.

We have another dinner with her family in a few days just before we take off to Greece for a week. Enduring more of Jack's accomplishments of his firm and criticisms of living in the city and of my job. I'm not even sure I want to go but there's little sway my voice holds in such matters. I know it's different for her though, she's close to them and they have one another, but I'm just...just not the family type. That's as best I can put it I guess.

Jason walked with his eyes low and fixed on the sidewalk before him. The city around him became lightless and soft, with all sound m.u.f.fled against his thoughts and introspection; the shop Jason planned to stop by sat idle as he pa.s.sed it and on through London.

He circled back after a few minutes and bought a gallon of milk, a dozen eggs, a loaf of bread, and a newspaper. Jason carried the paper bag back in one arm while he read an article on the front page of the paper. The headline read 'Bombing in Cairo. 16 Dead, 12 Wounded'.

Aug. 22 Late last night, in front of Khan el-Khalili, a major tourist attraction in Cairo, a bomb was detonated on a person within the market that resulted in the deaths of six individuals and nearly another dozen injuries. The market is closed today as a precaution to the possibility of a second attack. The bomber is a.s.sumed to be a member of the Dafu who have since their attack on United States President Jean Monroe last Friday, made attacks on ten other areas around the world including Tokyo, Mexico City, and Berlin. The velocity of the recent attacks has caused alarm in many nations world-wide and many are on edge from fear that the Dafu may be plotting a much larger attack.

For the complete story see section A2...

Jason reread the small news clip over again. What possesses someone to do something like that? Kill others? Why do they think it's right? I would have thought everyone would have some semblance of life's worth, but I guess not. He stopped walking in front of a small bakery and set his bag down for a moment to open to the rest of the article, though another story caught his eye first. 'Body of Local Seamstress Found, Missing One Kilogram of Flesh.'

Aug. 22 - The remains of Emma Thompson, aged twenty-four, were discovered near the Munic.i.p.al Offices in Twickenham mid-afternoon yesterday. Thompson was found without nearly a whole kilogram of skin, which is said to have been surgically removed. The list of suspects is limited at this time given the nature of the macabre state of the victim's remains. There is however speculation that this murder could be linked to the disappearance and ultimate finding of Edward Park's remains not a week earlier. Park, thirty-six at the time of death, was missing over a liter of blood when he was located outside his home in Ham. Authorities have declined any official statement at this time about any connection between the two murders.

The rest of the article continued to mention the victim's personal life, family and friend's reactions, and further theories from interested parties. More crazies. Who kills someone and takes skin? I've heard of these psychopaths taking hair from their victims, but skin? Jason frowned. And this is so close to home too. I didn't even know about this. Jason folded the paper under his arm, took his groceries, and continued home.

After a moment Jason heard some panic a few blocks from where he was. Groups of people rushed past him both to and from the area in question. What on earth? He looked for himself and saw smoke billowing into the night sky from a building near his home. No. No no no no no, d.a.m.n it no. Please. It can't be. Jason dropped his things and sprinted toward the fire; his home stood engulfed in flames from the ground up.

Audrey, where are you? Please. He called her name out amidst the fleeing crowd. Jason questioned other tenants he knew from pa.s.sing but no one knew if she was outside at all. A pit of fear grew within him and he turned his attention toward the building. s.h.i.t, Audrey. Why the h.e.l.l'd I have to go out tonight? Why can't I just sleep like normal people? If I'd been there you and I would be... He shook his head. It's too early to regret anything, she's going to be fine, and I'm going to make sure she's out of there and we're going to be safe. He took a breath and without recognition of other's words or warnings he dashed into the firestorm in search of his wife.

Their building was an inferno; flames poured out of the walls and smoke followed Jason up the stairs as he counted the floors to their floor. Jason wasn't sure how much longer the floor would support him after planks smoldered away behind him.

Once he reached his floor he ran down the hall to their room, where he tried the door, but recalled that the lock was still in place. "Audrey!" he yelled as he choked on the smoke. He slammed his fist into the door and called out again, though there wasn't a response.

d.a.m.n it, this isn't going to work. Even if she can hear me, the locks and the k.n.o.b have got to be scalding hot by now. He changed tactics and took a step back. He took a breath (of what air he could find), kicked their door right where the k.n.o.b and lock were and broke into their home.

Audrey wasn't anywhere in sight. Have to be sure Jason. You can't a.s.sume here, be certain. He coughed and hoa.r.s.ely called her name out. With what little vision he had he searched their closet, bathroom, kitchen, and bedroom until he knew she managed to escape without him.

What a b.l.o.o.d.y idiot I've been Audrey. Please forgive me, if you can. I shouldn't have gone, I-I didn't know this would happen. I'm so sorry.

Jason turned his thoughts toward his flight from the building next. Just run Jason, you know the way out. No time to secure anything, jewelry, photos, computer, leave it. He made for the hallway with a final glance for Audrey, to satisfy his fear. But after a few steps Jason felt the floor beneath him begin to give way. He looked down at the wooden beams visible beneath the burnt carpet, all red hot between the charred wood. The floor crumbled beneath him and Jason fell to the floor below. It gave way as well and the debris collapsed on top of him. Jason blacked out and the heat, the smoke, the sirens, the commotion, and the fire faded out of existence.

3:43 PM.

Kirkland, Washington "How are you feeling?" Drake asked.

Ian stared back at him. He'd been distant since he woke up an hour earlier, as well as slow to react to any sort of question or inquiry. The doctor told Drake it was normal and that he was making progress, but it didn't seem so to Drake. To him, Ian was only one part through the ordeal; he was still in the woods, and it worried Drake.

He finally responded, "I'm...I'm feeling much better." Ian spoke slowly, cautiously, and carefully.

The doctor said Ian would act differently in his conversational skills and he a.s.sured Drake that this would pa.s.s too. Drake didn't care what a normal reaction was; he only wanted his friend to return.

Drake and Ian sat alone in his room at the Evergreen Medical Center. Nurses and Ian's doctor would occasionally drop in to check on him or run brief tests, but other than those intrusions they were alone. Ian's mother was on her way, but because of her absence it allowed Drake time to confirm things he hadn't been able to since Ian was struck by lightning.

"What do you remember about last week?" he asked Ian.

He only looked at Drake. After a moment he answered, "There was a football game, or a practice...a storm, lightning..." he tried to think, to remember something, but failed to do so.

Drake filled in the gaps, "You and I talked, do you remember that?"

"In the storm?"

"Yes, we talked outside in the rain."

"Before I was. .h.i.t by, struck by lightning?"

"Yes. Do you remember what we talked about?"

He shook his head. "What was it?"

Drake cleared his throat and asked, "Do you remember that Victor was killed?"

Ian frowned. He asked who killed him and Drake felt a twinge of relief. Drake told him the murderer still evaded the police and that the authorities still didn't know who it was. Ian remained quiet for a moment. The revelation troubled him, but his expression changed from sorrow and concern into doubt.

He looked different than Drake recalled him last. Ian still seemed entirely scared out of his mind, but he was pale, weak, and completely listless. Even his mannerisms changed. He was cautious and nervous when they talked, even though Drake was one of Ian's oldest friends. Drake knew it would take time for Ian to regain normalcy, but his alteration worried Drake.

Ian slowly asked, "Did anyone else die?"

Drake's heart sank. He reluctantly nodded. "Princ.i.p.al Summers was also killed."

With that confirmation Ian's eyes widened and he shot up, "It was Nick," he said without any inhibition.

Drake stopped him and promptly told him to calm down. "No it wasn't," he a.s.sured him. "Nick didn't kill his own brother."

"No, it was," Ian cried out. "I-I was there. I saw it happen." He looked away from his friend and more returned to him. "That's why I was at...at your house. That's what we talked about," he looked at Drake, "Wasn't it?" he asked him.

Drake only nodded.

"Then how can you tell me Nick's innocent?" he questioned him.

Drake explained the events that took place at Jordan's work and of the murder of his employer. He told Ian that the killer left one of Victor's credit cards behind. "Nick was there, as was Jordan and a handful of other people, all who witnessed Crystal's murder by someone who wasn't Nick."

Ian sat in his bed with a cross look on his face. He bitterly asked, "Why would anyone want to kill them though?"

Drake shook his head, "I'm really unsure Ian. You told me that the man who killed Victor and Princ.i.p.al Summers looked like Nick, whereas the man who murdered Crystal didn't look anything like Nick."

"And they don't know who it was?"

"No."

Ian struggled to keep up with Drake's thought process, but asked, "Why did the second a.s.sa.s.sin have Victor's credit card though?"

Drake nodded. "That's also a perplexing matter. Unless the second killer was actually the same person who killed Victor, or unless he received, stole, or took the credit card from the one who initially stole it from Victor. But it still doesn't make sense that the first would even take it and leave the rest of the wallet intact. From what I understand nothing was taken from Princ.i.p.al Summer, so why just steal one credit card?" Drake stopped and glanced at Ian, who tried to follow Drake's reasoning. Drake asked, "Do you at least believe me when I tell you that Nick's innocent?"

Ian agreed with Drake. He saw how convinced Drake was, and after their brief talk about all the events of the past week that he didn't know about due to his coma, his previously unwavering testimony of the incident was shaken. He told his friend he no longer felt Nick was guilty and Drake was relieved.

"Why did you fight this for so long though?" Ian asked.

Drake answered, "I knew Nick would never do something anything so heinous, especially not his own brother. Besides, if you told the police about what you saw it would only spell trouble for Nick. And after everything he's been through in the past week he doesn't need the additional stress."

Ian hadn't considered that, or any of the trouble Nick must have faced in the past week. He apologized to Drake, but Drake only asked that he refrain from telling anyone about what he saw at the high school when Victor was killed if he was asked. Ian agreed just as his mother joined them.

She had tears in her eyes and ran to embrace her son. Drake smiled and left them alone as he stepped outside of the room to make a call to tell his manager that he planned on taking the remainder of the day off.

Chapter 8.